


Goodnight, Mrs. Miriam

by Hedgehog_Penny_Tales



Category: Undeadwood - Fandom
Genre: AU, Everyone lives, Fix-It, Fix-it fic, Gen, Mention of major character death, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Other, Some Arabella/Miriam if you squint, Swearing, everyone lives au, not a shippy fic though, same with Sharpe/Mason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 17:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21450376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedgehog_Penny_Tales/pseuds/Hedgehog_Penny_Tales
Summary: Aloysius has always had nightmares. This one feels so much more real than any other.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	Goodnight, Mrs. Miriam

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the ending of UnDeadwood and enjoyed every second of it. I also want only sunshine and happiness for these characters so have this AU. Also this is my first time posting something here and my first time in years posting something period. Please be gentle.

“_With every failure, a toll is paid.” _

The voice of the Dealer echoed through Aly’s head as he lowered his gun, the barrel still smoking. Sharpe lay motionless on the ground. Even from here, Aly could see the twisted ironic smile death had frozen on the gunslinger’s face. The mirth about his mouth was not reflected in his cold, unseeing eyes. 

Aly approached, the pain in his chest a dull throbbing he knew he would have to look at soon. He knelt by the body and without a word, he closed Sharpe’s eyes. He stood, still unspeaking, and made his way back into the Gem, not looking at any of his companions. 

“God forgive you, Aloysius Fogg. God forgive you because I will _not.” _Miriam spat the words at him with more fire and heat than both of those little nitro bottles combined. He felt nothing. Her anger was reasonable, but it did not reach him, just as her pleas had not. 

He placed his guns on the rickety bedside table of his room. His chest ached where Sharpe had shot him and his body ached from the fight with the demon-snake creatures. But when he slipped under the covers, it was to a dreamless, welcoming sleep. 

“_With every failure, a toll is paid.”_

Aly jerked awake, a sudden burst of pain shocking him from his sleep. He was covered in a cold sweat and he struggled to pull breath in through his lungs. Cold, damp night air seemed to choke him more than it helped and he struggled to find any air at all. 

There was a shout, the sound of hooves, and then he was being pulled into a sitting position. Sharpe had swung down off his own horse and had him gripped by the shoulder holding him steady. 

“You alright there, Mr. Fogg?” Blue eyes peered keenly at him from under the brim and shadow of a wide hat. Blue, seeing eyes, clear and bright. 

Aly shook his head, trying to clear the sudden pounding from it. “Guess I dozed off for a second. Fell off my damn horse.” 

Sharpe rolled his eyes, huffing in a way Aly now recognized was as “good natured” as the man got. He held out a hand to help pull Aly up. “We finish this godforsaken damned job we’re on, you can sleep as much as you want. ‘Till then, you might want to keep your eyes a bit more open.”

“Is everything alright?” Miriam was turned in her saddle, a worried expression on her face as she craned to see. 

“_God forgive you because I will not.”_

Aly shook his head again, steadying himself on Clayton’s shoulder, trying to shake off his most recent nightmare. That’s all it had been. That’s all it had been. That’s all it had been. 

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Sharpe answered. He gave Fogg a pat on the back for good measure and then swung back up on his horse. “Some of us just aren’t as used to saddles as others."

Aly swung back up on his horse, doing his best attempt at a good natured scowl. “Big talk coming from a man that almost went down in a stampede.” 

Sharpe reddened slightly and muttered something under his breath about where Aly could stick a stampede and turned to rejoin the others.

Aly urged his horse onwards, following suit, but hanging at the back of the group. His eyes did not leave Sharpe’s back until they came to the pit.

The fight went as well as it could have. The snake fuckers certainly weren’t expecting a face full of nitro. Watching those creepy demon shits burn was enough to make a man feel downright giddy, even if he was hurting to beat hell. 

When the last one ran, far too fast for them to catch even on horseback, veryone practically collapsed down together. They huddled near the horses, all of them catching their breath collectively. Decorum seemed to have gone out the window as they all leaned every which way across each other, too tired and sore to care what anyone outside the group might think on the off chance some other poor soul was out here tonight.

“We fucking did that,” Sharpe laughed. It was a surprising sound, strong and clear in the darkness and before long, all of them were giggling like school kids, clutching at shoulders to stop from doubling over totally. 

“We did that and we lived,” Mason added, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and giving Sharpe’s shoulder a firm squeeze. 

“Although some of us do seem a little worse for wear,” Miriam pointed out, looking between Aly, Mason, and Sharpe. 

“You three do seem pretty rough,” Arabella agreed. “Perhaps it’s best we make a hasty trip back. The local doctor might’ve been an evil snake worshiping demon from hell, but his supplies are still in town. We can get everyone seen to there.”

“We could always use whatever _this_ is to try and heal ourselves,” Mason pointed out, holding up his hand and staring at it. 

At his words, Aly felt a cold pit in his chest, just left of his heart. 

“_With every failure, a toll is paid.” _

He shook his head. “You know what, Rev? This thing’s whole problem was greed. We got supplies back in town. Let’s not push our luck tonight.”

“Gotta say I agree,” Sharpe nodded at Aly. “We’ll take it slow or fast as needed, but I think I’m done with this weird power and Dealer bullshit.”

The journey back was slower on account of how fucked up and sore everyone was, but even that didn’t dampen anyone’s spirits. Even Sharpe had a smile on his face, as much as anyone had ever seen him wear anyway. 

From the back of the group again, Fogg watched it all. He couldn’t help but feel as though a proverbial bullet had been dodged. His nightmare, the clearest one he’d ever had, played over and over in his head. That spot in his chest burned cold and deep, down to his bones. He knew, knew in his soul, that something had happened. As right as this all felt, it felt wrong, too. It was like a sense of deja vu without actually having done it before. Close, but no bullseye. 

“Cheer up, Aloysius,” Miriam smiled back at him. “We just earned ourselves a hell of a lot of gold and even got out of it with our lives.”

He tried to smile in return, but it mustn’t have been convincing enough. Miriam slowed her horse to walk in step with his, concern etched deep into her features. 

“Are you alright, Aly?” 

“I’m just overthinking things is all,” he told her. “Bad habit of mine. Keeps me up most nights. I’d rather just do it when I’m asleep, but it seems I’m not doing that today.”

Miriam gave him a look that spoke to an understanding deeper than words could. “We’re here for you, Aly, all of us. You need any of us we’ll be right here.”

Aly looked back over the rest of the group. Sharpe rode with Arabella on his left and Mason on his right. From back here, he couldn’t really make out what the three of them were saying or the looks on their faces, but he could read the relaxation in their shoulders. He could see the way Arabella carried herself with a fierce sense of pride and accomplishment and the giddy way the reverend fidgeted in his saddle. And he could see Sharpe, steady on as he rode, hunched slightly from exhaustion, but relaxed and breathing easy all the same. 

Seeing it all, that cold ache in his chest began to fade ever so slightly.

“I know it.”

Later, when Swearengen handed him over the wanted poster with Sharpe’s face inked on it, Fogg did the only thing he could do. He carried it out of the room, down into the bar proper, and he showed it to Sharpe. 

Sharpe went still, quiet and motionless as so many a grave they’d all seen. 

“You gonna let me explain or are you gonna make the same mistakes others have?” Sharpe’s voice was carefully flat, unemotional, as he stared down at his own likeness. 

Without a word, Fogg picked the wanted poster back up and he tore it in half, then into fourths, and then again into eights. He pushed the pieces across the bar to Sharpe. 

“We done a whole lot together these past few days. The man I know ain’t the man right there on that paper. I’ve never seen that man before in my life.”

Sharpe looked up at him, surprise and gratitude flickering across his face before he managed to school his features. “Thank you, Aloysius.” His voice was quiet, soft, and full of an emotion neither man bothered to name. 

“You’re a good man, Sharpe,” Aly said. He grabbed the full shot glass that had been poured for him and he threw it back in one and rose from the bar. 

“Going to bed already, Aly?” Miriam looked up from her conversation with Mason and Arabella, disappointed. “You don’t want to celebrate with us?”

“I’m mighty tired,” Aly apologized. “But I’ll owe you one and take everyone out tomorrow night, that sound alright? Drinks on me?”

“We get free drinks here,” Arabella pointed out, lifting her own whisky in emphasis.

Aly grinned. “That’s why drinks are on me.”

Miriam laughed, slipping her arm around Arabella’s waist and hiding her face in the other woman’s shoulder as her laughter shook her. When she pulled back, she was slightly red. 

“Well, if you insist on an early night, I suppose we can’t rightly keep you any longer. Rest up, Aly, and we’ll celebrate properly tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Aloysius smiled back, the joy and laughter in the room infectious and warm. The cold spot in his chest warmed with the rest of him.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Miriam.”

  
  
  



End file.
